by B. Groves
“Claire…” the distance voice said once again.
Then a feeling came over Claire. Was it despair? Why was she feeling this pain? A deep sense of hopelessness started within her belly and climbed into her throat.
Another emotion came upon her. Fear. A deep foreboding fear made her heart almost jump from her chest.
“It’s okay, Claire.” The small figure said.
She saw him move. Was it a boy? His voice sounded like a small child, but she wasn’t sure.
“You can come closer,” it insisted.
“Who are you?” Claire asked, her voice coming out scratchy.
When he said his name, Claire couldn’t—no—she wouldn’t believe it. But, deep down in the depths of her soul she heard that voice before. She knew that face. She memorized it over the years through pictures that stayed near her wherever she went. She swore she would never let herself forget about her brother who’d been lost in freezing cold water so many years ago, and she kept that promise although her memories of him were dark.
“David…”
Claire moved into the hallway.
“David? No… it can’t be you…”
Claire was struggling to walk now. Her ankle throbbed, the dizziness was getting worse. She thought at any moment she would pass out. Yet, something inside her blew wide open.
She heard a distant yelling. Screaming. A little boy was crying. Where were these sounds coming from?
She would have thought huge speakers were inside the walls and blasting the sounds directly at her as she moved towards her little brother.
Claire tried to inch ever closer, but the voices held her back.
“Don’t touch him! He didn’t do anything!”
“If you don’t get away, I’ll kill you, too!”
“Leave him alone!”
“Don’t! No!”
“David! David!”
Invisible arms wrapped around Claire. Before she could turn around she was thrust against the wall so hard her feet came off the ground. She slumped to the floor in a thud.
Claire groaned as she tried to gain her bearings and figure out what was happening to her. Tears were flowing down her cheeks. Another pain hit her stomach making her lose her breath. She tried to scream. She tried to get up… to run away, but she couldn’t move. The invisible arms held her down.
Claire felt the immense pain in her stomach area again, before she was left in a crumpled heap on the floor.
Claire blinked trying to wake from this nightmare. She didn’t know what was going on. She didn’t know who was hurting her or how to make it stop.
Claire felt one last spasm of pain in her rib area before it stopped for good.
She caught her breath. She couldn’t move, but she was still breathing in heavy, puffy gasps. The cold of the floor was now inching its way onto her exposed skin.
She tried to reach out to something to help her up, but nothing was there but the smooth paneled wall.
“Help me,” she cried as the tears stained her cheeks. What is happening?
Claire then felt a touch on her forehead. Freezing cold fingers brushed her skin.
Claire turned her head, and the touch stopped. Squatting in front of her was a little boy. Her brother. Her David.
His skin was a dull gray, his lips were purple, and his breath came out in frosty puffs like hers.
Big, ice blue eyes mired in sorrow stared back at her. His hair was blonde and curly like his pictures.
His shirt was ripped at the arm. The same place the pain from her arm came from. Except his shirt had a blood stain where the tear was.
His jeans were torn at the knees, and he was missing one shoe.
Claire reeled back against the wall. She couldn’t move, nor could she blink as David gazed at her.
“David, is this really you?” She asked with an obvious quiver to her voice.
His tiny eyebrows scrunched together as if her question made no sense to him.
He came to a standing position, and Claire noticed his movements were not smooth, but jerky.
“You don’t know?” He asked.
Claire shook her head. “No.”
The little boy thought about what he wanted to say. He looked up and down and then back to Claire.
“It’s me,” he answered when he eyes settled back on hers.
“I can’t believe it,” Claire said.
The little boy nodded as if understanding her.
“You will.”
Claire realized she no longer feared this world. Now, curiosity was taking over.
“Where did you come from?” She asked although each word was a struggle to say.
“Dig,” he answered.
“What?”
“Dig,” he said once again.
“What do you mean?”
“Dig, Claire.”
With those words, David moved closer to Claire and reached for her. Claire jerked back not sure what he would do.
David let out a frustrated sigh and reached his hand out again.
“Do you want to leave?” He asked, upset at her for reasons Claire didn’t know about yet.
“David, how are you here? You’re dead.”
Another frustrated growl came from the boy, and he reached out again.
“The butterfly,” he answered.
“The butterfly?”
“It’s how I’m back,” he said.
Claire was confused, and the fear rose in her throat.
“Back?” She asked with a squeak in her voice.
“Dig,” he said.
“Dig what?”
“Dig.”
Her eyes closed, and she felt herself fall into a warm, sweet darkness.
Claire’s eyes flew open. In a panic, she sat up on the sofa and found the room to be just as she left it before she fell asleep. The only change was the fire burned down to soft embers that barely emitted any light inside the room.
The first thing that caught her eye when there was light was the butterfly brooch sitting on the coffee table.
8.
C laire walked into the kitchen and made coffee. She knew she’d regret it later by drinking it black with just sugar, but it would have to do for now. She would need to pull her package of Tums out her travel bag this morning.
Her mind was in a tailspin from the realistic dream she had last night. She didn’t know how to feel about dreaming of her brother. He never appeared to her before in a dream that she could recall. She wanted to brush it off as her mind playing tricks on her from moving back to her old home, but she didn’t know.
It seemed so real. The pain, the heartache, how his eyes projected his every emotion. She remembered all the details.
Claire tried to shake off the shivers that ran up and down her spine. It was just a dream, she kept telling herself as she watched the coffee brew into the carafe.
She needed to take her U-Haul trailer back to one of their stores, and have it taken off her car.
As the coffee dripped—with Claire making another mental note to upgrade it soon —she opened up the dining room to the right of the kitchen.
Switching on the lights, Claire was met with an extravagant set up of a solid and fancy dining table, and even fancier chairs to match.
Claire caught her breath in her throat from the vision before her. It was a massive room with even more massive furniture.
She walked in and stood in awe of the enormous hutch housing, which held the most expensive china set she’d ever laid eyes on.
Her weird nightmare forgotten for a moment, Claire placed her fingers on the table and found the light coating of dust from the neglect since Rose died.
The dining room table was decorated with two clear glass vases and fake flowers in the middle.
Lace placemats were placed in front of each chair with elegantly folded linen napkins.
On the other side of the dining room table, cream-colored drapes sat on opposite sides of sliding glass doors that led onto another small de
ck.
Claire walked over to the doors and smiled at the colors of the sky turning from twilight to muted lavender as the sun rose.
She heard the beep of the coffee maker but stayed there admiring the lavish area rug underneath her bare feet.
The walls were wallpapered in cream with swirling decorations to match the rug. There was a buffet table on the other side of the room that sat empty waiting on guests to serve themselves a buffet of rich and expensive foods.
Claire shook her head and had a vision of her hosting such an event, but thought it was childish and brushed it off.
She looked up at the crystal chandeliers thinking they cost more than her apartment in her old hometown in New Jersey.
What a place this was, she thought.
And, it was hers.
How did her life change so drastically within a matter of weeks?
But the mystery remained. Who was Rose Kinsey, and why had she been so elusive to Claire ever since David drowned?
The question gnawed at Claire when she returned to the kitchen to drink her coffee.
She rummaged through the cabinet above the coffee maker finding coffee cups. She rinsed out the old cup and sat down to drink it.
She made a face at the roughness of the liquid but drank it anyway. She wouldn’t get through this day without it, and one of her first priorities was to clean out the refrigerator once she unpacked.
The main goal was to find a bathroom with a shower and pick a bedroom first.
Claire still didn’t like taking over Rose’s room. The thought made her wrinkle her face.
She wondered if she’d know which one was her mother’s room and her childhood room. If she could pinpoint it, then she’d stay in there until she was more comfortable moving into the master bedroom.
She smiled at the thought. It would be a great way to connect to the mother she couldn’t picture.
With that situation solved. Claire walked back down the hallway and stopped in front of her mother’s portrait. She smiled and said, “I’ll find your bedroom.”
She had a feeling she’d find it with no issues and continued to walk down the hallway until she reached the foyer where her boxes sat in a corner waiting for her.
She had a mission first. Find a bathroom and a bedroom, and then unpack.
This was her first time climbing the main staircase. The wood squeaked and groaned beneath her feet, but they were sturdy. The handrail was solid underneath her hand.
As she ascended the staircase, Claire wondered if Rose hadn’t finished her remodeling plans before she passed away.
The weird dream she had the night before was fading into the background as Claire turned her gaze from one end of the upstairs hallway to another.
The sun was rising, but the house was still cast in dark shadows.
Claire found a light switch at the top of the stairs and flicked it on so she could see the second floor better.
Where do I start? She asked herself.
Claire decided she would start at Rose’s room and make her way down.
She gazed into the master bedroom after she turned on the light, and thought of changing her mind about moving into it.
Shaking away that thought, for now, Claire walked in again and spotted the open door to a bathroom on the far left of the room.
She peered inside to see the bathroom had been updated to accommodate Rose’s needs.
Handrails were installed on either side of the toilet, and a stand-up shower with glass door also had handrails inside the stall.
The throw rugs were a thick sea mist color sitting on the floor in front of the toilet and the sink.
The sink had enough room for other toiletries, and Claire found another makeup case sitting to the side.
The mirror was oval with a white wooden frame.
The bathroom was simple but elegant.
There was no tub in this bathroom, but the empty space beside the stand-up shower told Claire that Rose must have had the tub removed.
Claire explored a little more before she unpacked.
She left the main bedroom and turned down the hallway. She realized more family pictures were lined up on the walls.
These pictures were photographs, not painted portraits.
Claire stopped to gaze at some of them. Some were the family she would never know, and some were of her mother when she was young.
Claire tried to ignore the hole opening in her belly again as she memorized her mother’s features.
Others were obscure family pictures.
Claire stopped when a realization came to her. Some pictures were missing on the walls.
It was clear there used to a frame where an empty space was.
Curiosities turned to confusion as Claire wondered why some pictures were missing.
Who was in those pictures and why were they taken down?
I could write a book from these questions, Claire thought.
The side tables also contained older photographs, but all seemed to be there.
Claire gazed up on the walls again and found baby pictures. She recognized herself and David right away, then next to them were outlines of pictures removed from the wall long ago.
Yes, it was clear some pictures were missing.
The mystery of her deceased grandmother was getting deeper by the minute.
Claire knew she had a lot of exploring to do and hoped the answers would fall into her lap soon.
Claire shook her head and opened one of the doors in the hallway.
She was greeted with soft sunrise light shining on a sparsely furnished bedroom. Another flick of a light switch and she saw a formal guest bedroom with simple white painted walls, and a plain queen-sized bed with a blue quilt to cover it.
She rubbed her nose from the dust that flew around her when she opened the door.
She saw a simple white dresser and opened the drawers to find them empty.
Claire turned to see a small desk near the window and walked over to find the closet empty.
“You have to stay here now, sweetie.”
Claire jumped back when she heard the voice in her head. A memory tugged at her mind. One where a firm, but gentle hand pushed her into the room.
“Everything will be all right. You’ll both be happy here.”
Claire stopped in the middle of the room. She looked around as visions of a memory she didn’t recognize came into focus.
She lived here before. The déjà vu was unmistakable.
Claire froze in place. This was her room after her parents died.
“This is your room now, Claire. Your mom would have wanted you to stay here.”
“Yes, Mom-mom.”
“Good! Let’s get you both settled.”
Claire stopped to take a few deep breaths. She turned her eyes up to the farthest wall. Shelves sat empty in front of her.
But, the vision of stuffed animals and other toys appeared in front of her eyes. She turned to her left to see a Barbie play set sitting by the desk with Barbie dolls scattered on the floor along with other brands of dolls sitting inside the play set.
“Are you all washed up for supper?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, now, remember what I taught you about proper table manners, and when you’ve mastered them, you can teach your brother.”
Claire couldn’t help herself. She sank to the bed, and let the memories flow in her head. A vision of a middle-aged woman standing the doorway made Claire gasp.
The woman was Rose Kinsey.
Claire blinked hard when another vision appeared.
“But, I don’t want to go! Mom-mom, please don’t make me go!”
A little girl with wild, curly blonde hair clung to the bedpost.
“No!” She screamed.
“You have to my little sweet pea. It’s the only way I can protect you,” The older woman said, choking up.
Claire realized she wasn’t breathing and gulped in a deep breath. She stayed on the edge of the bed wo
ndering why tears formed in her eyes as the visions flooded her mind.
Claire rose to a standing position, trying to calm the uproar going on in her mind.
Claire now knew why she took the house. She needed to resolve her missing memories of Kinsey House. She needed to put her brother’s memory to rest to move on with her life.
Most childhood memories faded as one grew older, but the more Claire tried to dig, the more she was met with blurry visions or nothing.
Claire realized this was not only her old room but her mother’s as well. She didn’t know how she knew, but a little voice inside her head told her this was it.
This is where she would stay.
Jeez, this one room is bigger than my old kitchen, she thought.
Claire backed out of the room. She wanted to find a bathroom so she could shower, and get dressed.
She checked her phone and found it still early, but the morning sun was bathing the hallway in soft light.
She moved down the hallway and opened a closed door. She squealed when she saw a utility room with a modern washer and dryer.
The room smelled like detergent and cleaning products.
The washer and dryer were set up in a far corner with big windows looking over the side of the property.
There was a wooden rack next to them to hang clothes on an inside clothesline.
She flipped the light switch and discovered the source of the smell. Cleaning products were stacked neatly on a shelf to her left. Mops, brooms, and dusters were waiting for use next to the shelves of cleaning liquids.
Her old washer and dryer from her old apartment had worked fine, but these were brand new, top of the line, front loader washing machine with a matching dryer. Claire squealed in delight when she pressed two buttons on the digital display since she’d never had appliances this modern and convenient before.
Claire’s excitement turned to confusion. Why would Rose remodel this house in her later years? Was she planning on living a lot longer?
The thought depressed her. The woman never lived long enough to reconnect with her granddaughter. She died alone in this house, with no one to help her. With no one caring enough to check on her for days or over a week from what George told her. What a sad way to end what must have been such an interesting life and Claire couldn’t wait to solve the Rose Kinsey mystery.